Chuck Versus the Closet Gleek
by crystal.elements
Summary: Even secret agents have guilty pleasures...
1. Discovery

_I'm back and better than ever! Well, not really. BUT…I was distracted enough from the horrors of my Intro to Humanities course (Philosophy in a clever-yet-sinister disguise) to write this lovely story for you. I've been hitting writer's block for a while now, and I figured that a good way to fix it would be through challenges and whatnot. Shoutout to __**brickroad16**__, who came up with the prompt idea over at the forums. This is for you, Glee fans. :)_

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Chuck or Glee, no matter how obsessed I am with the two shows._

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**Chuck Versus the Closet Gleek**

_by crystalelements_

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_Ding ding ding… _

Sarah barely registered the sound, much too engrossed with the screen in front of her to pay it any mind. It wasn't until a sudden movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention that Sarah finally shot into agent mode. Panicked, she hastily ripped the wires out of her ears and tossed the contraption aside before plastering an all-too innocent smile on her face.

Chuck blinked in confusion as the door to the Orange Orange swung shut behind him.

"What was _that?_"

Sarah cocked her head to the side. "What was what?"

"You just…" Chuck trailed off uncertainly, pointing from Sarah to the discarded object behind the counter. His eyes widened, recognizing the white wires almost immediately. "Are those…_earphones?_"

Sarah simply pursed her lips.

Chuck strode over to the counter, a grin creeping onto his face. "If I remember correctly, Sarah Walker doesn't listen to music." He cast a curious glance at her iPhone. "Unless you actually took my advice on Arcade Fire? Auditory aphrodisiac, yes?" He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis.

Sarah laughed, leaning against the counter. "Nice try, but no."

"Governmental doo-higgy?"

"Not this time, thankfully."

Chuck's brow furrowed. "Then what were you doing?"

A secretive smile danced on Sarah's lips. "I'll never tell."

Chuck stared at her. "You're kidding. Come on, Sarah, it can't be that big of a deal – "

"It's not," she cut in, offering a nonchalant shrug. "And that's why you don't need to know."

Chuck stuck out his lip in an exaggerated pout. "Fine, Miss Super Secret Agent. Can I least help myself to some fro-yo so I can drown my disappointment in delicious, fruity orange bliss?"

Sarah rolled her eyes and motioned towards the machine behind her. Chuck happily obliged, his smile suspiciously cheerful as he overloaded the cup with a spiraling mountain of frozen yogurt. When he was done, he turned with a flourish and held it out to her.

"Toppings, if you may." He winked. "I'll let you decide."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "My choice, huh?" She reached for the cup turned to open the glass. "I don't see why you can't just – "

That's when it clicked.

Her eyes widened in horror._ Shit! Smooth move, Walker!_

Flinging the cup of frozen yogurt aside, she spun around and lunged towards her iPhone just as Chuck dove forward to grab it. He collided into her at full force, and they both grappled for possession of the device for approximately three seconds before Sarah was able to snatch it out of Chuck's grasp. She shoved it into her back pocket with a triumphant smirk.

"Think you can outwit a CIA agent, Chuck?" Sarah challenged, her breath a little winded from the sudden exertion.

Chuck was heaving as well. "You have to admit, I almost had you." He grinned. "Split second later and I would've had one more uncovered secret in my Sarah Walker file. So close!"

His grin was infectious; Sarah found her lips curling upward. "Not close enough, I guess."

Conveniently enough, it was at that exact moment that the irony of her word choice decided to hit her – Chuck had her pinned to the counter with his weight, both of them still tangled together in awkward positions from the scuffle. Smile fading, Sarah sucked in a shaky breath.

_Or maybe too close. _

Suddenly, she was short of breath for an entirely different reason.

Chuck, on the other hand, must have been thinking especially hard about the mystery on her iPhone; he continued to stare at her intently, completely oblivious of their…_compromising_ proximity. Sarah bit her lip, cursing silently when her gaze flickered helplessly to that goddamned heartmelting smile.

His eyes instantly lit up, sparkling in obvious delight, and she bit back another curse.

_Okay, so he's not as oblivious as I thought. I am seriously losing my tou – _

The rest of the thought dissolved into mush as she felt Chuck lean forward; her eyes fluttered shut on sheer instinct, heart pounding wildly. Screw the damn cover – all it took was a few inches, really –

_Ding ding ding!_

The jingle of the door jolted both of them back to reality, and Chuck sprung up and away from Sarah so fast he nearly fell over backwards. Together, they spun to face the familiar scowling face at the door, their faces equally flushed in embarrassment.

Casey fixed his teammates with a glare. "Can't you two lovebirds keep your junk in the trunk for more than two seconds? One of these days I might actually be caught off guard and hurl my guts out." Grunting, he tossed a black dufflebag to Sarah, who caught it in surprise.

"Beckman's got another mission for us tonight. Briefing in five."

Sarah and Chuck exchanged questioning glances before following Casey into the freezer.

"Sooo…sappy chick flick?"

"Not now, Chuck."

* * *

_Get in, flash, intercept intel, get out,_ Chuck chanted silently, stepping into the long hallway as the elevator doors glided open. _Easy._ _We'll be out in less than an hour._

He stopped abruptly at the last thought. _Whoa, I've been in this business for way too long. Not exactly a good thing. _Chuck stole a glance at the sleek, black, CIA-issued tux he was currently sporting and cracked a grin, wondering what kind of dress Sarah would be slipping into for tonight's mission.

_Well…not exactly a bad thing, either…_

"Are you _kidding_ me?!"

Chuck gave a violent start at the sound of Sarah's voice, eyes flying to her door in shock.

_Mind reader?! _

Wow, how stupid. As if she actually knew he was picturing her in various sexy outfits. Suddenly embarrassed, Chuck quickly shook the thought from his mind when he heard her muffled voice again.

"Oh my god…" She sounded panicked. "What are you _doing?! No!"_

The alarm bells immediately went off in Chuck's head.

_Is someone in there with her?! _

He slowly inched towards the door, the dread bubbling in his gut. No crashes or thuds, no sounds of fighting. Why wasn't she doing anything?

"UGH!!!"

Chuck froze in utter bewilderment. Now she just sounded annoyed.

_What the hell is going on in there?_

He made the last few strides to Sarah's door. There were voices now; Chuck leaned forward, trying to distinguish the sounds.

…_Television?_

Last time he checked, Sarah didn't watch television – didn't even own one, in fact – and on the occasions that she did, it was either for strict cover maintenance or the "mandatory sci-fi education sessions" he sometimes put her through. Why she would be reacting to a television show now, especially to such a passionate degree, could only mean…

Right on cue, the pieces fell into place, and Chuck's jaw dropped open in disbelief.

_That's her secret!_

Taking extreme care in being as silent as possible, he quickly plastered himself to the door, ear flat against the wood. If Sarah knew he was outside spying on her like this, she'd probably kung fu his ass right out of her hotel window. Of course, that would mean he'd never find out what show it was that she was so apparently enamored with, and…well, that was just plain unacceptable.

Speaking of which, why did it sound so vaguely familiar…?

"Sir, can I help you?"

Chuck barely held in the yelp of surprise. He shot away from the door like it was on fire, spinning around to gawk at a bellhop wheeling a room service cart.

"Sir," the man repeated tersely, suspicion written all over his face. "Are you a guest here, or should I be calling security to escort you out?"

_Crap!_ "No, no, I'm a guest!" Chuck whispered hastily, backing up against the door. He let out a nervous laugh, wracking his brain for a plausible explanation. _Where's the stupid Intersect info flash when you need it?_ "I…well, see, I forgot my room key inside, and my girlfriend…I-I think she might be sleeping, and I wouldn't want…well, of _course_ I'll have to get inside at _some_ point, but – "

Before he could finish his pathetic attempt at an excuse, the door to Sarah's room was yanked open, and Chuck toppled over backwards into the room with a startled yell.

Sarah barely flinched as he crashed the ground. Peeking around the door, she flashed a disarmingly cheerful smile to the bellhop, whose mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Hi! Sorry about that, my boyfriend can be a little strange at times." She stole a quick glance at Chuck, who was currently groaning on the carpeted floor, and rolled her eyes. "Oh, honey, you're fine." She turned and winked at the bellhop, who swooned against his cart, the beginnings of a lopsided grin appearing on his face. "Thanks for your concern. I'll take it from here."

With that, she closed the door, façade dropping almost immediately. Without turning, she folded her arms across her chest and sighed in annoyance.

"Chuck, what are you doing?"

Chuck, who was currently slithering his way across the carpet towards the open laptop on Sarah's bed, froze in terror.

"Uhh…" He shuffled awkwardly to his feet as Sarah spun around and pinned him with a frosty glare. "Meeting up with you for tonight's mission?" Speaking of mission…Chuck did a quick appraisal of her satiny emerald dress. Yep. Definitely sexy.

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "I'm a CIA agent, Chuck, not an idiot. I'm talking about – _don't even think about it – "_ she growled abruptly, and Chuck's eyes snapped away from the bed and back to her – "I'm talking about your spy tactics, which really suck, by the way."

Chuck deflated, letting out a chuckle of defeat. "Yeah, I know. Two years in the business, and you'd think I'd be better at it." He cracked a small smile, trying to ease the tension in the room. "Then again, two years hasn't exactly taught me to stay in the car, either…"

Sarah's glare melted almost immediately, but not for the reasons he'd hoped. Sighing, she dropped her gaze.

"You were never meant for this kind of job, Chuck," she said quietly.

_Uh oh. Let's not go down this road again._ Desperate to stay away from the particularly depressing topic at hand, Chuck diverted the conversation away from turbulent waters the only way he knew how:

"It's a television show."

Sarah's head snapped up so fast he swore he heard a crack. Shedding her solemn mood like a coat, she fixed Chuck with a horrified look.

"How much did you hear?" She demanded, voice wavering, and suddenly all aspects of Agent Walker were virtually nonexistent. She was Sarah Walker, a normal 20-something-year-old woman with the biggest, most dreadful-yet-typical secret anyone could ever hope to have:

A guilty pleasure.

And let's face it – when you're no longer dealing with a highly skilled, dangerously kickass CIA agent, you'd have to be an idiot _not _to take the chance.

"Well, I didn't actually hear much before you caught on," Chuck replied, shrugging. "But it _did_ sound like something I've heard before…"

Sarah clung to his every word. "You…" she breathed, eyes narrowing into slits, "you don't know, do you?"

Whether it was a statement or a question, Chuck couldn't tell. Instead, he smiled an all-too innocent smile and shrugged again. "Well, that would depend on you, I guess."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you – "

And that's how Sarah made her second stupid mistake of the day. Before the words were even out of her mouth, Chuck was already sprinting towards the bed, arms outstretched and reaching for –

_NO!!!_

With a primal shriek, Sarah flung herself across the room with speed that could only rival a cheetah.

"Don't you _DARE_, Chuck!!!"

She tackled him just as he reached the foot of the bed, sending the both of them flying onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. The laptop skidded to the edge. Chuck's hands shot out just as it toppled over; miraculously, he snatched it midair and hauled it back onto the bed, eyes quick to search the screen. He found the minimized window on the bottom of the screen and clicked it.

Sarah, who was currently splayed across his back, twisted around with a snarl. She shoved his face into the mattress just as the window popped up in all its guilt-pleasured glory. Chuck furiously thrashed against her, trying to throw her off his back –

Suddenly the iPhone on Sarah's bedstand went off with a shrill, generic ringtone. Both Chuck and Sarah froze. Sparing a glance at the screen, Sarah cringed at the sneering face of John Casey staring back at her.

_Crap! The mission!_

"We're late," she hissed. "Dammit, Casey's gonna kill us!"

"S'ruh…m cn't breave…"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_," she replied, not in the least bit apologetic. Releasing her grip on the back of Chuck's head, she rolled off his back and brushed off her now-wrinkled dress in irritation. Agent Walker was back and in control.

"Come on, Casey's probably waiting for us downstairs," she said, not bothering to see if Chuck was getting up. Snatching up her still-ringing iPhone from the bedstand, she touched the screen and pressed the phone to her ear.

"_Where the hell are you, Walker?!" _Casey's voice barked. "_You and the nerd were supposed to be down here two minutes ago!"_

"We're leaving the room now," Sarah gritted, grabbing her gun from the counter.

"_I swear to God, if you two were playing kissy-face or some other disgusting love game – "_

Sarah promptly hung up on him. Yanking open the door, she spared a single hurried glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway.

"Hurry _up, _Chuck!"

"I know," Chuck replied, no longer bothering to hide the gleeful grin spreading across his face. "I'm coming."

He closed Sarah's laptop and quickly followed suit_._

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_And this concludes part one. Yeah, I know, I totally spoiled Sarah's television obsession from the title of this story along with the author's note and disclaimer, but you still want to see what happens, right? Right??? _


	2. Mission

…_Okay, before you all hurl bricks at me, let me explain. These past two months have been absolutely crazy for me. I'm still making the transition into college, so it's been a bit tough for me to handle the workload. I'm on Winter Break now, though, which means I actually have time to sit down and write. Sorry again, and hope you enjoy!_

_On a side note, for all you Gleeks - how AWESOME was that finale? Four months is a long wait…but we're used to it, aren't we? xD_

_Disclaimer: I wish I owned Chuck and Glee. Sadly, I don't.

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**Chuck Versus the Closet Gleek**

_by crystalelements

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**2 hours later…**

_Get in, flash, intercept intel, get out,_ Chuck thought dryly, staring at the run-down warehouse as it came into view. _It's never that easy, is it? _

"So let me get this straight," he began, as Casey pulled the Vic into the parking lot. "We left a party full of fancy people, classy music, and magically delicious crabcakes to come and investigate_ this_ giant box of gloom and doom?"

Casey stepped out of the car with a snort. "Yep. In short, moron, we do whatever your flashes tell us to do."

Chuck rewarded him with a mock laugh, to which Casey grunted in response. Sarah just rolled her eyes. Together, the three crept towards the warehouse in silence.

"Wait a sec, guys." Chuck stopped in his tracks, and both Sarah and Casey spun around, guns at the ready. "Why don't we have backup for this? It's a warehouse full of unidentified toxins with who-knows-how-many bad guys guarding it." He looked to his handlers, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe it's just me, but that kinda sounds like a somewhat dire matter for the safety of the country."

Casey sighed, relaxing his grip on his gun. "Protocol," he replied shortly. "All we know right now is that there may be potentially dangerous amounts of toxins in that warehouse. We don't know what the toxins are for or why they're even there, so until we investigate and confirm the intel you received in your tiny little noggin - " he rapped a finger against the side of Chuck's head, which Chuck indignantly slapped away - "calling for backup's not an option."

Shrugging, Casey turned and began walking again. Chuck and Sarah hastily fell in step behind him.

"We'll sneak in and see if you flash on anything we find in there," Sarah explained quietly, eyes scouring the perimeter of the building. "Once we get the evidence we need, we'll send backup to the ballroom to take Francois Badeau and the rest of his men into custody."

Chuck nodded. "Well, let's just hope the Inter - "

He was rudely interrupted by another grunt from Casey, who motioned for Chuck to shut up. He pointed first to the stack of shipping crates just ahead and, about fifty feet beyond that, to the four men lounging by the main entrance to the warehouse. The trio quickly ducked behind the crates. Casey loaded his tranq and took aim. Four shots later they were rewarded to the sound of bodies hitting cement. The NSA agent straightened with a triumphant smirk, running his fingers across the length of his weapon almost reverently.

"Long-range tranq gun. My new favorite toy."

They quickly made their way towards the entrance, Sarah pulling a visibly impressed Chuck past the unconscious guards.

"Casey will check them for weapons and communication," she said impatiently as he pointed to the bodies in utter amazement, his mouth agape. "He'll catch up to us later!"

"But…did you _see_ that? _Damn_, Casey, one shot each - "

"Come _on_, Chuck!"

The inside of the warehouse was, quite literally, stacked to the roof with crates. Sarah sucked in a shallow breath before moving ahead, gun loaded. Other than the undisclosed merchandise, the place seemed deserted, but she knew better than to assume. Years in the business had taught her otherwise - the bad guys always tended to materialize out of thin air at the worst possible moments.

Chuck, on the other hand, did _not_ know any better, despite being a part of the spy world for all of two years. He gawked openly at the crates, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Whoa," He whispered loudly, "this place is _loaded!_ How do they even stack them so tightly in such a small pla - "

Sarah slapped a hand to his mouth with a low "Ssh!", her eyes flashing a warning death glare. Chuck gulped and nodded. She was always better at conveying actions without words.

They covered the rest of the warehouse in silence. Deserted. Sure enough, Casey's voice crackled in their earpieces a moment later: "Looks like we're clear. I'm coming in."

He joined them at the back of the warehouse, crowbar in hand. Sarah pulled Chuck back as Casey approached one the few loose crates and jammed the crowbar into the top, ripping off the wood with ease. Together, the trio cautiously peered into the box.

The steel cylindrical tank inside hurled Chuck into a flash - an onslaught of encoded images later, he stepped away from the crate, blinking away the dull throb in his head.

"Wow, okay. We definitely need some backup for this." He scanned the warehouse of crates. "The place isn't full of toxins; it's more like a drughouse. Filled to the brim with phencyclidine, only somehow this Badeau guy managed to convert it into gas. In this state it's twice as potent as the liquid or powder forms."

Both Sarah's and Casey's faces were visibly paling by the time he finished his analysis. They exchanged apprehensive looks, and Casey immediately pulled out a mini transmitter and began barking orders.

"We've got confirmation. Take Badeau in and send the rest of backup to tracked location for immediate extraction!"

Meanwhile, Sarah hustled Chuck towards the entrance. "Let's go, Chuck - Casey can take care of the rest!"

"Wait, what's going on? What exactly are we dealing with here, Sarah?!"

Before she could answer, the door to the warehouse burst open and five men rushed inside, guns aimed at their chests. Sarah bit back a curse; Casey must not have disconnected the transmitters of the unconscious guards in time.

_Goddamn bad guys always materializing at the worst possible moments!_

One of the men, probably the leader of the group, jerked his head at the weapon in her head. "Drop the gun!"

When she didn't move, the man took a menacing step forward. "I said _drop it!_"

"Sarah, you should probably listen to the slightly imposing bad guy," Chuck hissed, eyeing the man nervously.

Sarah looked to Chuck, using the motion to spare a furtive glance out of the corner of her eye. Casey had slipped behind the crates unnoticed. He appeared behind the men a few moments later, waiting for her signal.

She turned her attention back to the men, shoulders sagging in what looked like defeat. As soon as she made the movement to drop her gun, Casey flung the crowbar at one of the baddie's head, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious. The other four men swung around, shooting wildly, and Casey ducked back behind the safety of the crates.

"_Move, Chuck!" _Sarah shouted, shoving him behind another stack of crates before shooting the weapons out of two of the baddies' hands. They clutched their wrists in pain; the two still with weapons turned and fired at her now. She dove after Chuck, barely dodging the bullets.

Using the distraction, Casey charged forward and slammed his shoulder into the baddie nearest to him. The man went flying, colliding into the rest of the group and knocking them all off-balance like a domino effect. The remaining guns flew out of their hands, skidding across the cement floor and out of reach.

Sarah was back on the offense before they could fully regain their bearings. Casey retreated long enough for her to fire off another round, sending two of the four men to the ground permanently. The other two split off into different directions, one engaging in hand-to-hand combat with Casey while the other stumbled behind a stack of crates near the entrance.

"_Stay here!"_ Sarah ordered firmly, dashing into the fray without waiting for a response.

Chuck let out a shaky exhale. "My favorite words." He peered over the crates, silently cheering and cringing when appropriate until -

_Wait._

Chuck did a mental count of bad guys. _Two fighting, two dead_…there were five in the beginning. His eyes widened in a panic. Where was Hit-By-A-Crowbar Baddie…?

He spun around just in time to dodge the punch, the wind grazing his cheek. The now-conscious baddie staggered towards him, blood dripping from the side of his head.

Chuck cringed in terror. "Not good! NOT GOOD!"

The man charged forward, tackling Chuck into the crates. The two tumbled to the ground in a flurry of limbs, Chuck desperately fighting off the man's attacks. They slammed into another stack of crates, including the one that Casey had pried open; the tank of phencyclidine hit the floor top-first, knocking the valve open and sending a blast of gas into both men's faces.

Chuck's stomach dropped in horror as he and the baddie froze mid-roll, staring at the tank. Time slowed for a split second as the implications set in. Then, with lightning speed, Chuck's hand shot out and twisted the valve shut. He grabbed the tank and swung it with all his might into the baddie's skull, knocking him out yet again.

"_Chuck!"_

He looked up to see Sarah sprinting towards him, panic etched into her features.

That was the last thing he remembered before the sanity slipped from his mind.

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_So I realize that this story went from lighthearted fun and fluff to…well, a mix of comedy, action, and suspense, which I did not originally intend to have. Major shift that might have thrown people off, I assume, but it's all there for a reason - trust me. (Plus, I needed to work on writing action. How'd I do?)_

_I also realize that there is not one drop of Glee in this chapter. Not to worry, folks, I'm just setting up the scenario. We'll be back in lighthearted fun and fluff territory next chapter (which will NOT take two months to update, I promise). _


	3. Drugged

_See? New chapter in record time (not really), just like I promised (kinda). You can thank __**Liam2**__ for his unconventional methods of harassment. Read his stories if you haven't already, especially __**Road to Innocence**__. It's awesome._

_By the way, this chapter is complete crack. I'm serious. You've been warned. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or Glee. But they both need to come back on the air very, very soon._

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**Chuck Versus the Closet Gleek**

_by crystalelements_

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"_Chuck!" _

Sarah had never run faster in her life. She'd just finished delivering a brutal knockout kick to her baddie's head when she saw the tank drop. Within a second she'd taken off in a full sprint, all the while screaming silent profanities at her sheer stupidity.

She should've seen it coming. Of _course_ the one time Chuck actually listened to her and stayed put was the one time he'd be in the most danger. Dread bubbled in her gut as she skidded to a stop in front of him. Dropping to her knees, she cradled his face in her hands and examined his rapidly dilating eyes.

"Chuck," she repeated gently, trying to hold his face still. "Chuck, look at me, come on." She whipped her head around in a panic. _"Casey!"_

The NSA agent was at her side in an instant. "What happened?"

"One of them attacked Chuck, they knocked over the crates and the tank - " Sarah fixed her frantic eyes on her partner - "Casey, he got hit with the gas."

Casey's face instantly morphed into his usual scowl. "Typical, Bartowski. I don't know how you manage to do it."

Sarah ignored the remark, scanning Chuck for any injuries. She bit back the sigh of relief when she found none. "He doesn't seem to be hurt, but I'm not sure how big of a dose got into his system. We have no idea how quickly this gas works, either."

Chuck blinked several times, eyes sliding in and out of focus as his brow furrowed in dazed confusion.

"Buddy," he drawled, gazing up in wonder at Casey, "I knew you were tall, but I swear to god you just sprouted up a foot and a half in the last ten seconds."

Casey quirked an eyebrow and glanced at the blonde agent next to him. "There's your answer, Walker."

Without another word, he hauled Chuck to his feet, draping an arm over his shoulder as Sarah did the same. Together they dragged the drugged-up Nerd Herder back to the Vic, stepping unceremoniously over the group of baddies without so much as a second glance ("Backup can deal with them," Casey muttered under his breath, kicking one of the groaning baddies for good measure).

They were about halfway across the parking lot when Chuck began laughing uncontrollably. Sarah cast an anxious glance in Casey's direction.

"Refresh my memory, please," she said loudly, attempting to drown out Chuck's hysterics. "What exactly _is_ phencyclidine? What kind of symptoms are we looking at here?"

Casey snorted. "Phencyclidine. Better known as angel dust, crystal, hog, horse tranquilizer, rocket fuel, peace pill, flakes, snorts - " He broke off at the semi-amused look on Sarah's face, his eyes narrowing.

"What? I can't know slang terms for drugs?"

Her face went innocently blank. "No, no, go on. I'm listening."

Casey growled before continuing. "Well, its most common name is PCP. Nasty dissociative drug that causes a load of side-effects, especially the psychological ones. Hallucinations, mania, delirium - you name 'em, he'll probably get 'em."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Casey shrugged. "Just think of it as a temporary case of jacked-up schizophrenia."

"I'm like a noodle, only BETTER," Chuck slurred, head lolling to the side as he flashed a lopsided grin to Sarah. "I'm a _Chuckoodle_."

Sarah stared at him for a long moment. Then: "We need to detox his system. _Now_."

"We can't do anything about the actual intoxication except wait it out," Casey replied, opening the back door to the Vic. "Lucky for Bartowski, it doesn't seem to be a big enough dosage to be fatal. As for the extra helping of crazy, the best type of treatment that can manage his psychological symptoms is benzodiazepine."

Sarah helped lower Chuck onto the seat before turning to her partner. "Casey, _please_ tell me you have a treatment kit in the car."

"Uh…" Casey made a distinct effort to avoid her gaze. "Yeah. About that."

Sarah nearly slapped him.

"Where the hell is the kit, Casey?!"

The NSA agent quickly ducked into the driver's seat. "Forgot it back at Castle," he admitted shortly, embarrassed. Then he flashed a wry smile in her direction.

"Care to look after Chuckoodle during the ride back_, _Walker?"

Sarah's responding punch hit him square in the shoulder.

* * *

**ETA: 35 minutes **

"So there I was, going all Chuck-fuey behind those…those…brown thingies."

"Crates."

"Yeah, those…thingies. And then _BAM _- " Chuck threw his hands out, nearly cracking Sarah across the jaw in the process. "Out of the sky pops Mr. Hit-By-A-Crowbar Baddie, and the guy just jumps me from nowhere, and I'm like, '_Holy crap_, I thought you were dead!'" He gazed up at Sarah from his position in her lap, puffing his chest out in pride. "But then I took the Superman tank and bashed his head in!"

"That's very…" Sarah cringed, "good, Chuck."

His eyes suddenly widened in fear. "Oh my god…I killed him, didn't I?"

"No!" Sarah hastily replied, grabbing his hand. "No, you didn't. He'll be fine, Chuck, you just knocked him unconscious."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

His voice dropped to a sad whisper. "It's still not fair. I didn't even get to say goodbye to his cat."

Casey stifled a snort of laughter.

* * *

**ETA: 29 minutes**

"How come you never tell any jokes?"

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Chuck pouted. "You're a party pooper. You don't tell jokes! I know you said you weren't funny, Sarah, but it has got to stop."

"What? When did I…" Recognition lit up her face, and she stared at Chuck in surprise. "You remember me saying that?"

"Don't change the object. Sob…sub…" His brow furrowed in confusion for a moment. "…Subject. I wanna hear a joke, Sarah."

Sarah frowned. "I don't do jokes."

"Jooooke."

"Chuck - "

"Do you want me to cry?" Chuck challenged, expression hardening. "I can cry, y'know. This PCP stuff does wonders to my duck tears."

"You mean tear ducts."

"That's what I said. Duck tucks." And, just to prove his point, Chuck's already-bloodshot eyes began to water.

"_Fine!" _Sarah hissed in exasperation._ "_I'll tell you a joke, alright? Just…don't expect it to be - "

Before she could even finish the sentence, Chuck burst into hysterical laughter. Her eyes narrowed in bewilderment.

"Chuck, I didn't even…"

The nerd pointed to her forehead, eyes scanning as if he were reading scrolling text across her skin.

"_TAMPON CANNON BLASTER!"_

Sarah dropped her head into her hands.

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**ETA: 21 minutes**

"S'ruh," Chuck began, his voice even more slurred than before. "I hafta…gotta tell y'somethin'."

Sarah bit back a sigh. "What is it, Chuck?"

"Never tol' you b'fore…" Aside from the garbled speech, he actually appeared to be sobering up. "S'very, very important."

He slid a hand into hers and tugged her towards him; Sarah bent forward, suddenly anxious at what he had to say.

"Y'know th' skirt y'wear sometimes? S'black with white circle-y blobs - "

"Polka dots."

Chuck nodded and pulled her even closer. Sarah's heart flipped in her chest as his lips brushed against her ear.

"Th' truthiz…" He sucked in a deep breath, forcing the clarity into his voice.

"The truth is, it makes your butt look absolutely humungous."

This time Casey couldn't hold it in. His cackles were mixed with Chuck's yells of pain as Sarah crushed his fingers in a deathly grip:

"Ow! Ow! My hand! You're hurting the Intersect's hand!"

* * *

**ETA: 11 minutes**

"Casey, I feel like I oughta tell you this, but your arms are _massive_."

The NSA agent raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Thanks."

"No, I mean it," Chuck insisted fervently. "If I had those machine guns, Mr. Hit-By-A-Crowbar Baddie wouldn't've messed with me. S'why they don't mess with you. You kick _ass_ with those guns." He smiled dreamily. "And that _jawline_. Have I ever told you how magnici…magniglet…mag_nificent_ your jawline is? Don't take this the wrong way, Casey, but it was the first thing I noticed when I kissed you la - "

The loud warning growl that ripped out of Casey's throat was all he needed to shut up.

* * *

**ETA: 5 minutes**

"I always wondered this," Chuck began after a few minutes of silence, "but how's it that y'have so many different hairstyles? I mean…I swear to god you got bangs one week an' layers the next, an' sometimes it's straight, an' sometimes it's all…_wooo_." He made a wavy motion with his hands then shot her an accusing stare. "You're wearing a wig, aren'tcha?"

Sarah gritted her teeth. "It's called styling your hair, Chuck. No wig, I promise." She still had to slap away the offending hand when he tried to reach for a blonde lock.

Chuck blinked, then looked to Casey. "D'you know anything 'bout this?"

Casey shrugged innocently, glancing at Sarah through the rearview mirror.

She glared right back at him, seething. "You just _had_ to forget that damn treatment kit, didn't you?" She batted Chuck's hand away again in frustration. "Drive faster, Casey, or I swear I'm going to screw this whole mission over and shoot the Intersect!"

Chuck beamed. "Hey, I'm the Intersect!" A beat later, though, his brow furrowed. "Actually, Casey, we _do _need to hurry. It's nearly 9:00, and Sarah can't miss her favorite television show."

His words were met with a deathly silence. Suddenly the car felt about ten degrees colder - Sarah had gone completely rigid, her expression a frozen mix of mortification, realization, and the distinct look that could only be described as "I'm going to slaughter this nerd's sorry little ass".

"Walker watches _television?_" Casey actually slowed down the car, turning to look at the blonde agent with genuine interest. "What show?"

"It's nothing," she snapped through clenched teeth.

"Californication?"

"No."

"True Blood?" Casey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're one of those crazy chicks who goes all ga-ga over vampires, aren't you?"

"What? _No!_"

"Curb Your Enthusiasm?"

"_Drop it_, Casey." Sarah's voice was icy, so much that even the hardened NSA agent got the hint: _Shut up or suffer. _

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Chuck, who was still oh-so conveniently doped out on PCP. Before Casey could turn his attention back to the road, he hauled himself into a sitting position behind the driver's seat, much to Sarah's horror.

"Wait, you don't know?" Chuck grinned, leaning toward Casey's ear. "She's been watching it in secret on her laptop this whole time," he said in a conspiratorial whisper, "but I saw it. I saw it _all._"

He winked at Sarah, whose murderous stare threatened to burn holes into his face.

"Who'da thought…" He sang, falling back into her lap. "Sarah's a _Closet Gleek!_"

Casey's eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead. The last drop of color drained from Sarah's face. And Chuck, in all his drug-induced glory, spontaneously broke into song:

"_DON'T STOP! BELIEEEEVIN'! HOLD ONTO THE FEEEEELIN'! STREET LIGHTS, PEOPLEEEEEEEEEEE - " _He yelped as Sarah unceremoniously shoved him onto the floor.

"Walker," Casey said, fighting to keep a straight face, "you should probably - "

She was already pulling a hysterical Chuck back onto the seat. "Just shut up and drive."

* * *

_I apologize if I didn't get the effects of PCP right. I have no idea how the drug really works - this was just me having a little too much fun._

_One more chapter to tie up loose ends! Merry Christmas, all. Hope you had a great one._


	4. Treatment

_Wow, guys…you are amazing. 68 reviews for three chapters? Your support continues to blow me away. Thanks for all the positive feedback, and I hope this chapter will continue to make you smile. Sorry for the lateness - classes started up again, and you know how it goes when life gets in the way of our obsessions…oh. Wait. It's supposed to be the other way around, isn't it?_

_Special thanks to__** mxpw**__ and__** Liam2**__ for getting on my case about getting this done, as well as always being there to chat with me about ideas and random stuff. You two are awesome as hell, and probably mostly responsible for this chapter being just as awesome. And also a bit crack-ish, but that's sort of a given._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or Glee._

_

* * *

_

**Chuck Versus the Closet Gleek**

_by crystalelements_

_

* * *

_

**Castle**

**11:06 p.m.**

"Put the gun away, Casey!"

"Oh, come on!" The NSA agent shot her an exasperated look, finger still on the trigger. "At least let me put him out of _our_ misery!"

Sarah's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're _not_ shooting him."

"What if he ends up wrecking the place? We've got valuable equipment in here!"

She ignored him and motioned for the gun. "Give it to me."

"It's not like it'll kill him - "

"Gimme the damn gun, Casey!"

"No!"

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose, her breath coming out in a slow hiss. "Casey, I swear to God, if you keep pointing that tranq at him - "

"Why are you _doing_ this to her, John?" Chuck sobbed, clinging onto Casey's leg from his sprawled position on the floor. "All she wants to do is go home and watch some Gleeeeee!"

Casey growled, trying to free his leg from Chuck's grasp. No such luck. He gave Sarah a pointed look.

"Still don't wanna shoot him?"

Sarah actually considered it, especially when Chuck began to belt out his own tearful (and horribly off-key) rendition of Jill Scott's _Hate On Me_. But no - _NO_, she repeated fiercely, gnashing her teeth together as he hit a particularly screechy note - she couldn't do that to Chuck after everything he'd been through already. Pushing him off the seat in the car had already taken it too far. She obviously hadn't _meant_ to do it. But he'd ratted her out, and then he was singing _that song_, and the next thing she knew he'd disappeared from her lap and was rolling around on the floor...

She shook her head, expression hardening.

"Drop the gun, Casey. Just…just tell me where the kit is, _please_."

Casey scowled and pocketed the tranq before jerking his head towards the dimly lit hall. "Fourth room on the right. Medicine cabinet, top shelf." He sneered at Sarah's retreating form, folding his arms across his chest.

"Sure, act all nice and noble now, _Gleek_," he muttered under his breath, "but you sure were pissy when moron here hit the touchy lady feelings in the Vic."

Sarah's venomous response crackled in his ear: _"Your mic is still on."_

Casey hastily yanked out his earpiece. Chuck, meanwhile, continued to assault his leg, even as the NSA agent attempted to drag him towards the table -

"_Haaaate on me hater! Nooooow or later! Cause I'm goooooonna do me, you'll be maaaaaad, Caseeeeeeey!"_

_

* * *

_

"What do you mean, '_it won't work?_'"

Casey offered the frazzled CIA agent a shrug. "What'd you expect? The PCP Bartowski got hit with was a _gas, _which is something we've never dealt with before - "

"Then what's going to happen to him?" Sarah stopped pacing and fixed her partner with accusing eyes. "Casey, you _said_ we could treat him!"

Casey sighed at the frantic edge creeping back into her voice. _Women and their damn rollercoaster emotions._

"Walker, _calm down_. Chuck's gonna be fine, alright? We'll be able to flush the PCP out of his system before it does any real damage. The symptoms are the real issue here." He motioned to the opened kit on the table in front of them. "The benzodiazepine we have now will help with the worst of it - as in, he won't die of seizures or violent attempts at suicide - " The blonde visibly paled at the thought - "but we'll still need a more powerful antipsychotic to keep the rest of his symptoms under control."

Worry instantly morphed into disbelief, then realization, and then exasperation. Sarah pressed her palms to her eyes with a moan.

"_Wait_. You're telling me that he's going to be stuck like _that_ - " She pointed to the office chair across the table in which Chuck was spinning at an unnaturally rapid speed - "until we can _make_ a better antipsychotic to treat him?"

"Not _we_," Casey corrected, stopping the chair mid-spin (and nearly flinging Chuck to the ground in the process). "_Me_. As much as I admire your _altruism_ in refusing to tranq the nerd, Walker, I'm not putting up with his crazy. Besides," he added smugly, "the substances stocked in Castle are NSA-issue. Nothing like the stuff you CIA skirts are used to handling."

Sarah shot him an incredulous look. "You can't expect me to take care of Chuck by myself." Her eyes suddenly widened in alarm. "_Hold him!_"

Chuck, who had spotted a pipe above their heads, was now attempting to launch himself out of the chair to grab onto it. Casey quickly shoved him back into the chair and held him down. He glanced up at Sarah, whose expression spoke volumes.

"Point taken," he grunted, tightening his grip as Chuck began squirming. "How about this: I'll be right in the next room working on the antipsychotic. Bartowski should be calmer after the benzo, but if he starts giving you any problems, just holler and I'll deal with it." His eyes narrowed. "I don't care what you say, Walker - if he's too much to handle, he's getting tranqued. Deal?"

Sarah hesitated, looking between the two men as she weighed her options. Finally, she let out a weary sigh.

"Fine."

"Good." Casey suddenly broke out into a wry smile. "By the way, I forgot to mention that it takes around four to six hours for the symptoms to wear off."

The look Sarah gave him now was absolutely deadly, and he offered another shrug. "Hey, if we're lucky, I'll be done with the antipsychotic in about half the time. Good to be optimistic, right?" He motioned his head towards the kit. "Ready?"

Gritting her teeth, Sarah snatched up the syringe of benzodiazepine and injected the drug into Chuck's arm in one swift move. The nerd blinked a few times before visibly relaxing in Casey's grip.

The withering look Casey received from the blonde was enough to make a lesser man wet himself. Dropping his gaze, Casey gathered up the kit, fully intent on hauling his ass out of there as soon as possible. Her deadpan voice stopped him just before the hallway:

"You know, Casey, if you weren't such a great partner, I'd probably shoot you."

He bit back the grin.

"Likewise, Walker. Likewise."

* * *

**11:28 p.m.**

**Five minutes since injection**

_Okay, Walker. You can do this. _

Her deep exhale was rudely interrupted by a low-pitched giggle. Startled, Sarah's eyes flew open and settled on the nerd across from her. He'd finally stirred from his slumped position in the chair and was staring dazedly at her now, a familiar lopsided grin on his lips.

Sarah quirked a small, hopeful smile in return. _Well, as long as he isn't completely ransacking the place - _

"I miss your Weinie outfit."

She bit her lip, eyes squeezing shut.

_Round two, here I come._

_

* * *

_

"Colonel Casey."

Casey looked up from the chemical kit in front of him and into the stern face of one General Beckman.

"General," he acknowledged, straightening in his chair.

"I assume everything is under control with the asset's current condition?"

Casey fought to keep a straight face. "For the most part. Agent Walker is monitoring his recovery in the main room."

Beckman pursed her lips for a moment before nodding. "Good. Thanks to the information Chuck flashed on, we were able to catch Badeau and his men in time and take them into custody." She flipped through the papers in her hands. "According to the documents we've just acquired, Badeau was planning on transporting the concentrated form of phencyclidine back to France, where he could open it up to the black market as a highly potent poison. Overexposure to the gas would almost certainly mean death."

Casey's face suddenly looked ashen. "General…is Chuck's situation more serious than we originally thought?"

Beckman shook her head. "No need to worry, Colonel. Based on Chuck's current condition, it seems he was able to close the valve to the tank without any serious amount of exposure. It'll be a while before we can obtain more information regarding the gas's chemical structure, but until then, continue working with whatever you've got now to treat him. And Colonel - "

Casey glanced questionably at the screen again. Beckman hesitated, the subtle concern etched into her features as she slowly folded her hands atop her desk.

"Make sure Agent Walker is fully…_capable_…of handling the asset, especially with the state he's in now." Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "_You_ of all people know what kind of effects phencyclidine can have on a person."

Casey shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes ma'am. Will do."

* * *

**12:14 a.m.**

**51 minutes since injection**

_I can handle this. I know I can. _

"Sarah."

_Yep. I totally can. Only a few more hours to go. I can handle it._

"Saraaaaaaah."

Sarah broke her silent mantra and sighed. Setting down the pen, she dropped her face into her hands and tried to ignore the fact that Chuck was literally breathing down her neck. Why she even bothered trying to finish up the report from tonight's mission was beyond her. Then again, Chuck's condition had improved threefold since the benzodiazepine treatment, to the point where he'd actually kept to himself for the last ten minutes. Granted, most of it had been spent holding his hand two inches from his face and staring at it in wonder…but still.

"Saaaaaaraaaaaaaaaah-ah-uh-ah-uh-ahhh."

Unfortunately, said improvement had ceased to exist approximately thirty seconds ago.

Sarah sighed again, mentally prepared herself for yet another round, and spun her chair to face him. "What's up, Chuck?"

Chuck, however, seemed caught off-guard by her reponse. He let out a startled yelp and stumbled backwards; Sarah quickly latched onto his arm to hold him steady, hiding her amused smile.

"You okay?"

Chuck gaped stupidly at her for a good ten seconds, and Sarah's smile was quickly replaced by a look of confusion. Suddenly his eyes bulged; he turned an interesting shade of red and averted his gaze, mumbling something unintelligible.

Sarah looked even more lost. "Um…Chuck?"

He violently yanked his arm away from her and backed away, hands covering his eyes as he went.

Now Sarah was concerned. She stood up and walked towards him, her steps cautious. "Chuck, watch out, you're going to hurt yourself!" He wasn't listening to her, and she sighed in exasperation. "Chuck, please, just…just _calm down_ and tell me what's wrong. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Chuck froze, hands still splayed across his face. Hesitating, he spread his fingers and cracked an eye open to look at her. Apparently it was a bad idea, because he turned an even deeper shade of red and made a strangled sound from his throat. Arms flailing wildly, he stumbled backwards and -

"_Chuck!"_

_

* * *

_

Casey gave a violent start at the loud crash, nearly splattering the contents of his vial across the table. Growling, he propelled himself and his chair to the door and stuck his head into the hallway to survey the damage.

The crash had apparently been Bartowski, who looked like he'd just done a Virtruvian Man faceplant onto the ground. Walker was on all fours beside him, a mix of worry, shock, and _what-the-hell-just-happened?!_ plastered across her face as she made sure he was alright. Casey narrowed his eyes.

"Walker? What's going on?"

The blonde whipped her head around, eyes wide. "I honestly have no idea! He just went crazy all of a sudden and wouldn't look at me, and then he tripped, and now he's just…" she leaned in closer, trying to decipher the words that Chuck was apparently muttering under his breath. "I'm not sure, something about cold water and wild fanta - "

The implication behind his garbled words hit her at that exact moment, and Sarah turned a very, _very_ dark shade of scarlet.

Chuck remained motionless on the floor. Sarah looked like she would die from sheer embarrassment. Casey simply stared, mentally rattling off PCP symptoms in his head: _sedation, hyperactivity, impaired attention, delirium, hallucin -_

The roar of laughter that ripped out of his throat was so powerful that the NSA agent nearly fell out of his chair. Sarah's hand actually inched towards the knives strapped to her thigh.

"_Just finish the damn antipsychotic, _Casey_."_

He nodded through his tears and disappeared back into the room. The resounding laugh, however, echoed throughout Castle long after.

* * *

**1:05 a.m.**

**1 hour and 42 minutes after injection**

"Chuck."

"Ngh."

"Chuck, you've been on the floor for almost an hour."

"Nnnnnngggnggh."

Sarah let out an exasperated puff of air and released her hold on Chuck's arm, which dropped like a deadbeat. Honestly, why'd she even bother trying?

"Chuck, I can pull out a camping bed for you or something; just _please_ get off the floor, it's gross!"

"Not 's gross 's the motel," the muffled voice responded. "'Sides, I like the floor. It's cold. It helps."

Sarah missed that last part - she was, quite predictably, too busy flushing scarlet at the mention of "motel". Shoving thoughts of Barstow and…_other things_…aside, she crouched beside Chuck's spread-eagle form and tugged his arm again. "Okay then, Chuck, the floor it is. But can you at least lie on your back? You're kind of drooling all over the place."

Chuck sighed - well, he tried to, but in his faceplant position it came out more like a "Ppffffbtbt" (_Seriously, _Sarah wondered,_ how can he even breathe?_) - and reluctantly rolled over. His eyes sought out hers, a strange smile creeping onto his face, and suddenly Sarah had the urge to flip him right back onto his stomach.

"You're so boo…beau…" His nose crinkled thoughtfully. "Beau-bootyful."

Sarah slowly arched an eyebrow, unsure of which direction she should take that statement. "Um…I'm sorry?"

"Hehe…bootylicious." Even in his drugged haze, Chuck understood what the look on her face meant and quickly added, "I-I mean booty - beauto - beautilicious…?" He trailed off, settling for confusion.

Sarah rolled her eyes and stood up. She was promptly jerked right back to the ground with a yelp, Chuck's hand tight on her wrist.

"Wait!" He said in a hushed voice, eyes wide. "I hafta tell you somethin'."

Sarah exhaled through her nose, remembering all too well what had happened the last time he'd said that. _Well, at least bootylicious makes sense now_. She grinded her teeth indignantly. _My butt is _not_ big, dammit! _

She frowned, suddenly self-conscious.

…_Is it? Crap, maybe I need to train some more. Asses don't tone themselves, after all. _

"…didn't mean to. 'M sorry, Sarah."

Sarah blinked_. Oh, right. He was talking to me._ "Sorry, what?"

Chuck furrowed his brow. "I said…I didn't mean t' give away your secret. About Gleeeeeeee." He drew out the title in a quiet, singsong voice.

Sarah almost smiled, but then she remembered exactly how he'd figured out the guilty pleasure in the first place. Scowling, she shoved his shoulder none-too playfully. "Yeah, you jerk. I can't believe you looked at my laptop!"

Chuck pouted, rubbing the assaulted shoulder. "S'not my fault. You left it on your bed. Your bed smells nice." He sighed dreamily, a faraway look in his eyes. "Heeee. That was fun. I like wrestling. Always knew you'd be on top."

Yeah, Sarah was definitely feeling uncomfortable now. She instinctively shifted an inch away from him. "Uh, Chuck…"

Chuck blinked, refocusing on her face and grinning. "S'me." His smile faded a moment later as the rest of his brain caught up with him. Sadly, he dropped his gaze.

"Didn't mean to pry, Sarah. I just wanted to know more about you."

She didn't expect his confession to hurt so much; she'd heard him say it countless times before this, after all. But once again her heart constricted painfully in her chest, and Sarah forced herself to look away.

Suddenly the whole thing seemed ridiculous - it was a _television_ show, for God's sake! Why was she acting like such a _girl_ over it? And moreover, why the hell did she take it out on Chuck in the first place? He'd been drugged, he'd nearly been _killed_ - which, by the way, was kind of _her_ fault for not keeping an eye on him when it really mattered -

Yeah, Sarah Walker really felt like crap now.

"It's alright, Chuck," she said softly, resting a hand on his chest. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have overreacted, it really wasn't a big deal, and y - "

"It IS a big deal," Chuck interrupted abruptly, shaking his head. "I can't believe you watchit! That show is ridic'lous! S'not even realistical!"

Sarah's tenderness fizzled. "Hey, that's not…"

"Ellie made me watchit once," Chuck continued, oblivious to Sarah's reaction. "Dunno why she likes it. Wasn't that great. She has all th' songs, too…listens to 'um all the time. All they do is sing! S'just some cheap rip-off of High School Musical…"

Sarah's hand snapped away from Chuck's chest as if she'd be shocked, a scandalized gasp escaping her lips.

_Oh, HELL no. You did NOT just go there._

Okay, so maybe it was completely irrational of her - Chuck was still drugged, and he'd still nearly been killed, and it was still all her fault - but come on, that was totally uncalled for!

Before she could open her mouth to give him a piece of her Gleekified mind, though, Chuck turned his guilty gaze on her. Any retort she'd had in mind died on her lips, because, really, who could resist those beautiful orbs of chocolate?

Sarah froze._ Wait, what? Orbs of chocolate? Where the hell did THAT come from?_

Wow, her mind was really messed up tonight. Somewhere in the next room, she swore she heard her partner grunt his assent.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Chuck mumbled, completely unaware of the blonde's current distractions. Startled, she quickly snapped her attention back to him. "I tol' Casey you're a Closet Gleek. That was s'pposed to be your secret, an' I wasn't s'pposed to tell, much less find out. So…" He sucked in a deep breath and sat up, fixing Sarah with a determined gaze.

"So t' make up for it, I'll tell you secrets about me."

For the second time that night, the color completely drained from Sarah's face.

_Oh, this isn't going to end well._

_

* * *

_

**1:19 am**

**1 hour and 56 minutes after injection**

_Last step,_ Casey thought triumphantly, squeezing a few drops of diazepam into the vial and corking the top. He shook it lightly, mixing the contents to create a faded orange tint. _Let it settle for a bit and we're all set._

A strange, erratic thumping suddenly broke through his concentration, and Casey cast a curious glance behind him. It felt like…footsteps. A lot of them. Almost like Walker and Bartowski were playing tag outside. His eyes narrowed.

_What the hell are they doing now?_

Sure enough, the footsteps became louder, and moments later Sarah burst into the room and slammed the door shut behind her, eyes wild.

Casey quirked an eyebrow at the strange sight. "I'm not done yet, Walker." His eyes flickered to the door. "Don't you have an asset to take care of or something?"

Sarah collapsed against the door, a hand covering her eyes. "There are just…_certain things_ you need to keep to yourself," she moaned. She threw her arms down and fixed him with a desperate look. "Casey, I can't shut him _up_, he keeps on talking and I don't want to _hear it_ - "

Right on cue, another pair of footsteps approached the closed room. Both Sarah and Casey jumped at the sound of a body slamming up against the door. Sarah gave an audible whimper; she pressed her hands against her ears, bracing herself for the worst.

"An' when I was thirteen," the unmistakable voice bellowed through the door, easily negating any chances of being unheard, "I was watchin' Princess Leia's slave scene in _Return of the Jedi_ and doin' my little boy business, and Ellie walked in on me and screamed…so, y'know, when you wore that outfit that one Halloween - "

Sarah's eyes nearly bulged out of her sockets. A weird cross between a shriek and a growl escaped from her throat, and she whipped around and yanked the door open. Chuck went crashing to the ground, effectively cutting off the rest of his confession with a startled yelp. Casey just stared on in shock.

An awkward silence filled the room for several torturous moments. Then Chuck's words finally settled in, and Casey's stomach gave a violent churn.

"Oh, you did _NOT_ just put that image into my head, Bartowski!" He snarled, his face contorted in disgust. "I don't need to know about any of your freaky teenage _nerdgasms_, not now and not ever!" He turned and pointed an accusing finger at Sarah, who looked as though she wanted to drown herself. "And _you_ - you just _had_ to wear that costume and make moron here all excited, didn't you? You both have scarred me for _life!_"

Sarah had absolutely no words. Her expression flickered rapidly between emotions - horror, embarrassment, shock, fury, and something else that Casey didn't even _want_ to attempt deciphering - before settling on an eerily indifferent stare that was, quite frankly, creeping him the hell out.

"I said I could handle this," she said calmly, "and that's exactly what I'm doing. But so help me God, Casey, if you don't finish that antipsychotic soon…"

Without finishing the threat, she pulled Chuck to his feet and silently led him out of the room. Casey actually felt a tremor of fear shoot down his spine. Slowly, he turned back to his work desk, expelling the breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His chest swelled with pride.

_Well shit, Walker. I think I almost wet myself._

_

* * *

_

The moment the two made it out of the hallway, Sarah let go of Chuck's hand like it was on fire and strode over to the table. She leaned heavily against it and let out a huff of air.

_I don't know how much longer I can handle this._

Honestly, she wasn't sure which was worse: Chuck with drug-induced ADHD, or Chuck with nonexistent verbal control. Either way, both seemed to produce the same result - never in her years as a government agent had she ever succumbed to torture, but now Sarah could feel her patience and sanity starting to crack. Screw the damn antipsychotic - if this kept up any longer, she was seriously going to take his so-called tampon cannon blaster and shove it up his -

_NO,_ Sarah thought fiercely, shaking away the violent thought before it went any further. _Don't even GO there, Walker._ _Remember whose fault this is? _You_ didn't look out for him like you were supposed to, so _you_ have to deal with the consequences. Just be glad he isn't dead! _

She was, of course. Definitely more so than a lethal CIA agent like herself should be, but then again, she was long past the internal denial by now. Still, that didn't erase the fact that this Chuck was turning out to be her most difficult - and possibly most dangerous - adversary yet.

His footsteps sounded behind her, and Sarah instinctively tensed. Without waiting for the inevitable secrets to come gushing out again, she whirled around and clamped a hand over Chuck's mouth. Stunned, he blinked at her through wide eyes.

"_Don't_," she croaked. "_Please_, Chuck, no more secrets. I don't want to hear them."

He stood there silently for a long moment, eyes glued to hers. Then his expression turned into something that Sarah recognized almost immediately, and her heart skipped in her chest.

_Oh, no._

Gaze unwavering, he mumbled into her hand.

"Can I tell you somethin' that's not a secret?"

It was the absolutely worst thing to do and she knew it. So of course Sarah went against her better judgment anyway and pulled her hand away from Chuck's mouth. In its place was a ghost of a smile that sent butterflies exploding into her stomach. He hesitated, then:

"I really want to kiss you right now."

And just like that, the temperature between them skyrocketed; the air seemed to crackle with intensity, and Sarah knew that if she didn't step away from him in that _exact moment_, she was going to be in a world of trouble.

_But you know you want to -_

"Y-you _can't_," she stammered frantically, and it took all her willpower to push him away. "Chuck, it's the drugs talking, it's totally wrong, we _can't_ _do this_ - "

The intense, determined look he was giving her was definitely _not_ helping matters. Sarah gritted her teeth, exasperated.

_Why the hell does he choose _now_ to look sober, dammit?! _

And then, to her utter horror, Chuck did the last thing she ever expected him to do:

He ripped off his shirt.

Sarah literally squeaked in shock. "W-what are you _doing?!_"

Tossing the shirt aside, he took a step towards her, brow furrowed. "S' so hot in here…aren't you hot?"

Oh, Sarah was _not_ going to answer that question. Instead she stumbled away from him as quickly as possible, her voice shrill and unnaturally high.

"Chuck, _don't_, s-stop it, you _can't_ - " She let out another squeak as her back hit the stair railing. Chuck advanced like a dazed predator, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his pants and a gaze full of resolve and sheer determination and -

_Oh my god, I can't handle this!!!_

She heard the soft whistle and the _thuk_ of contact before she saw it. Chuck's eyes widened imperceptibly for a split second before going blissfully unfocused; he took one last staggering step before lurching towards Sarah, who quickly reached out and caught him before he hit the ground.

"C'n I sniff yo' hair 'gain, pleez…?" He managed woozily; with one last whiff, he flashed her a loopy grin before his head fell into the crook of her neck.

Sarah leaned hard against the railing, legs shaking uncontrollably and breaths coming out in short gasps. She looked from the dart protruding from Chuck's shoulder to the hallway where Casey stood, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Got to use it after all," he said brightly, pocketing the tranq. In the other hand he held up the syringe filled with orange liquid. Sarah nearly sobbed with relief...until she caught the look Casey was giving her. The amusement on his face was unmistakable.

"Had a fun time with you boy toy, Sunshine?"

Despite the deadweight body in her arms, Sarah still managed to flip him the bird.

* * *

_**Fact:** "Individuals intoxicated with PCP frequently feel a need to undress, whether due to their elevated temperature or for some delusion-related impulse." :D_

_Well, this was one behemoth of a chapter...at least compared to my other ones. I know I said this would be the last chapter, but it got a bit too long and way too crazy…so the next one will be the last, an epilogue of sorts. Hope that's alright. (Not that you have a choice...unless you want it to end here, that is. Haha.)_

_And now it's 4:00 in the morning, and I've got four classes back-to-back tomorrow. Ah, college…_


	5. Recovery

_Well, we've reached the end of the road for this story, folks. I can't thank you all enough—this story is now my most reviewed story ever, and the positive feedback has been nothing short of amazing. Have I ever told you how Awesome you all are? No? Well, you most definitely are Awesome. I hope you enjoyed this crazy ride as much as I have. _

_Thanks need to go out to a couple of people. To __**mxpw**__, as always, for being there to listen to me ramble and whine, as well as wholeheartedly offering his services as the most awesome beta ever. And to __**Frea O'Scanlin**__, who is one of my favorite readers and a total out-of-the-closet Gleek. If not for her, this chapter probably wouldn't have been updated until I finished school (which is in a month). She was very insistent and went so far as to guilt-trip me into writing by giving me a shoutout in her story, "What Fates Impose". If you haven't read that yet, you need to get your butt over to her page and do so immediately. Seriously, you won't regret it, it's freakin' brilliant. _

_And now, without further ado, I bring you the final chapter of Closet Gleek. ;)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or Glee._

_

* * *

_

**Chuck Versus the Closet Gleek**

_by crystalelements_

_

* * *

_

"Walker."

Sarah studied her computer screen for a moment longer before switching her attention to Castle's staircase. Casey clambered down in his Buy More attire, a disapproving frown etched into his expression as he took in her cross-legged position on the chair next to Chuck's makeshift bed.

"Aren't you supposed to be working right now?" He cocked an eyebrow and jerked a thumb towards the Orange Orange entrance into Castle. "As in, your cover job up top? The one that has a huge 'closed' sign above the door?"

Sarah fixed him with a pointed look. "I think Chuck's recovery is a little more important than a cover job at a yogurt shop that, mind you, gets about 5 customers on a _good_ day."

Casey snorted. "Must be the service."

Sarah glared at him. "What do you want, Casey?"

"My point is that you could be spending time doing more important things instead of spending every second hovering over your unconscious nerdboy. Or catching up on an episode of your favorite dorky television obsession," he added with a smirk.

Sarah shut her laptop with a guilty flush. "For your information, I've already completed last night's mission report," she said, pulling out the folder and slapping it into Casey's waiting hands. "What have you done today? Sold a toaster to a happy couple?"

Casey gave an amused grunt. "Looks like someone's got their panties in a bunch. Not enough beauty sleep for the CIA agent? How long have you been here, anyway?"

Sarah stiffened and looked away. Casey's grin faded.

"Walker," he repeated, the humor gone from his voice, "how long have you been here?"

Sarah gave a halfhearted shrug and folded her arms across her chest, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

"A while."

Casey stared at her for a few more seconds. She looked exhausted. The bags under her eyes spoke volumes, and her entire body seemed to slump in her chair. He glanced around the room and saw a coffee maker sitting off to the side, the glass carafe slowly filling up with dark liquid. How much coffee she'd drank to stay awake this long, he'd never be sure. Casey suppressed a sigh.

"Go home and get some rest, Walker." At her questioning gaze, he grunted. "Look, if I know you, you completely ignored the fact that we've been closely monitoring Chuck's recovery through surveillance and haven't left his side since he conked out this morning. Which also means that you haven't slept in two days. I know you're worried about him, but you gotta take care of yourself, too."

Sarah blinked in surprise. "Casey…"

"Hell, since I know it'll make you feel better, I'll even stay here and watch over the nerd myself," he continued gruffly, dropping the mission report onto the table. "If anything happens I'll let you know, but for now, you get some sleep. Understood?"

Sarah stared at him. For a moment, Casey feared that she might actually stand up and try to hug him. After a long pause, she gathered her things together and stood.

"Casey?"

"Hmm?"

She flashed him a brilliant smile. "Thank you."

His expression softened for the briefest of seconds before he caught himself. With a grunt, he turned and walked over to the computers, bringing up the usual surveillance cues.

"Least I could do. Besides, I doubt Bartowski would want to wake up with you looking like that." He glanced back at her. "No offense, but you look like crap."

Sarah's smile quickly faded into a scowl. "Really, Casey? You couldn't have just let me relish the moment?"

Casey snorted. "Never. I get enough of the lady feelings from Numb-nuts when he's actually conscious. There's only so much a guy can handle." He jerked his head towards the entrance. "Now hurry up and get outta here before I change my mind, Gleek."

Sarah muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "hard-assed Sugar Bear" under her breath before clambering up the stairs. Before she could get any further, however:

"Walker."

Sarah looked down just in time to catch the small USB flash drive that Casey tossed her way. Her expression changed from annoyed to curious as she observed the device.

"Something to watch after your little power nap," he said, a neutral expression carefully set in place. "I thought you might appreciate it if last night's episode wasn't kept on record."

Her irritation drained away almost immediately. With a heartfelt smile, Sarah pocketed the flash drive and strode out of Castle.

* * *

The first thing Chuck noticed was lavender. Before he was even half-awake, it was the scent of lavender that overloaded his senses. Which was strange, really, because the only time he ever remembered smelling this particular aroma so strongly was when he woke up next to the girl of his dreams in a motel that was…well, decidedly not so dreamy.

A soft, melodious hum broke through his thoughts before they could wander off into steamy fantasyland. Chuck's eyes flew open with a start. Bad idea. The sun's glare hit him like a cosmic punch to the face; blinded, he rolled over and groaned into the pillow.

Mmmm…lavender.

"Hey, you're awake."

Chuck shot up in bed, eyes wide. He hadn't been dreaming after all—sure enough, Sarah sat several feet away, curled up in her green chair with her laptop resting on her legs. She plucked the earphones from her ears and offered him a soft smile.

"How are you feeling?"

Chuck fell back against the headboard. "Sarah? What…how did…" He glanced around the sunlit room, thoroughly confused. "Am I—"

"In my hotel room? Mhmm."

He meant to ask why. Instead, what came out was, "Were you just _humming?_"

"Oh…you heard that?" Despite the tinge of red on her cheeks, Sarah managed to keep a straight face. "Sorry, I was watching an episode of Glee."

Chuck stared at her. Did she just openly admit to watching _Glee?_ Hadn't she gone primal on him for trying to find that out just the night before? Speaking of which, how had he ended up here, in Sarah's hotel room, in Sarah's _bed?_

Oh, man, his brain felt like it was dissolving into mush. To top it off, his arm was on fire; it felt like someone had jammed a needle into his—

Chuck glanced down and nearly had a heart attack at the sight of the IV attached to his forearm. "_Gah!_ Needle. Very large needle!" He thrust his arm as far away from his body as possible. "Sarah, what the hell is going on?"

The last thing he expected to see was Sarah fighting back a grin. But that's exactly what she did: she bit her bottom lip and closed her laptop, clearly amused. "Don't worry, Chuck, you're fine. You've been out for a couple of days, so we've been trying to flush the phencyclidine out of your system through IV."

"Phen…what?"

She cocked her head and fixed him with a curious stare. "You don't remember?" Off his puzzled look— "You got hit with the drug. PCP. At the warehouse?"

"_A drug?_" His voice cracked as it hit an octave, and Chuck quickly cleared his throat. "You're kidding, right? What did it do to me?" He ran both hands through his hair just to make sure it wouldn't fall out. The IV tugged on his arm and he cringed.

"Careful," Sarah said. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Chuck's arm into her lap. "Here, let me take that out for you."

Chuck waited until she'd pulled out the needle before rambling off into another wave of questions. "I got drugged? By _PCP?_ Why can't I remember any of this?" He paled. "Oh God, I'm not gonna be like that guy from _Psycho_ for the rest of my life, am I?"

"Relax, Chuck, we've got everything under control. You had an episode, Casey tranqued you, and we gave you the antidote." Sarah frowned a bit. "Unfortunately, we can't get all of the phencyclidine out of your system, so you might be experiencing some minor symptoms for a couple of weeks. We've got the medication to deal with it, though, so you should be perfectly fine."

"Casey_ tranqued_ me?"

Sarah gave him an incredulous look. "That's really what you're going to focus on?"

"Well, I'd say it's pretty damn important. What the heck did I do to make Casey shoot me with a tranq gun?"

Nothing short of a flash could have stopped him from seeing Sarah's reaction to that question: a flicker of sheer mortification among other expressions too quick for him to decipher, then a purse of the lips and a blank look that was way too unnerving, even for a CIA agent like her. It was only a split second, but it was all Chuck needed for the dread to set in.

"Sarah," he said slowly, "what did I do?"

Too late—the carefully constructed mask was back in place. Sarah gave him a nonchalant shrug and stood up. "Nothing…damaging, I promise. Let's just say that you're better off not remembering."

"Sarah, you know you can't just leave me hanging like that. You have to tell me _something._"

She pondered that for a moment. "Well, you were singing a lot." A grimace. "Sorry to say, Chuck, but I'm pretty sure you're tone deaf."

Chuck balked at her. "You can't be serious."

"Completely serious. I actually needed earplugs."

"No. No way." He thrust a thumb towards his chest. "Chuck Bartowski? He doesn't sing. In fact, Chuck Bartowski hasn't sung since his senior year in high school, when Morgan decided that a two-person acapella performance in the cafeteria was the greatest idea since Zelda's crossover to N64." His brow furrowed at the memory. "Come to think of it, I'm not exactly sure how I got duped into doing that."

Sarah looked as though she was deciding on an expression between amusement and sheer confusion. She opened her mouth to reply then seemed to think better of it; instead, she ambled over to the table and picked up her laptop. Without a word, she sat down on the bed, opened the screen in front of Chuck and pulled up the surveillance records from two nights before. A few clicks to max out the volume, then:

"_I COME FROM A LAND DOWN UNDERRRRR! WHERE BEER DOES FLOW AND MEN CHUNDERRRR!" _

Sarah closed the window just as the Chuck on-screen began dragging himself across the floor on his stomach towards a very disgruntled-looking Casey. She browsed through the records and pulled up another one; this had Chuck hugging one of the computer monitors, his voice all-too melodramatic as he belted out the lyrics:

"_Don't wanna cloooose my eyes! Don't wanna faaaaaall asleep, 'cuz I miss you, baby! And I don't wanna miss a thiiiiing!"_

And another one, this time with Chuck doing some sort of hyperactive jiggy around Castle as he attempted to rap MC Hammer-style:

"_Fresh new kicks, advance! You gotta like that, now you know you wanna dance! So mooove, outta your seat, and get a fly girl and catch this beat—"_

Chuck reached for the laptop and fast forwarded several seconds. On screen, an aggravated Sarah and Casey were now trying to drag Chuck out from under the table to no avail; he slapped their hands away, still singing to his own music.

"_Na na na na, na na, na na, CAN'T TOUCH THIS!"_

Chuck finally snapped the screen shut and shoved the laptop away from him. The two sat in silence for several long moments as they digested the footage before Chuck decided to speak.

"I…have no words for that."

"I'm sure." Sarah crinkled her nose. "Although you were lamenting over something called 'parachute pants' at the time, whatever those are."

"Oh, wow. Yeah, I'm surprised you weren't the one to shoot me first."

Sarah gave him a wry smile. "Trust me, I considered it a few times."

"Well, I could always ask Casey for lessons."

The wiggling eyebrow dance sent her into laughter just as Chuck knew it would. His own smile faded, however, and his expression became serious. Since they were on the topic…

"Sarah, I need to apologize."

She blinked at him. "What for?"

"I saw the episode of Glee on your laptop right before we went to meet Casey for the mission," he said, glancing down at his hands. "I'm sorry, I know you hate it when I try to pry into your personal life all the time, I don't know what I was thinking—"

"Chuck."

"I mean, seriously, fighting over the laptop? What am I, twelve? You obviously didn't want me to see it, and I—"

"_Chuck._"

"—made a huge deal out of it anyway, which was completely immature of me—"

Sarah slapped a hand over his mouth. "You know," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "as adorable as it is to listen to you ramble, sometimes you need to let a girl talk."

Chuck grinned beneath her palm. "You think it's adorable?"

"Oh, zip it. My turn, remember?" She lowered her hand and placed it on his arm. "Look, Chuck, it's not your fault. I overreacted. I guess I was just embarrassed; I'm pretty sure a show like _Glee_ is the last thing anyone would expect me to enjoy watching."

"Well…yeah." Chuck hesitated, studying her face for any dangerous reactions before he continued. "No offense, Sarah, but it _is _kind of…unrealistic."

To his surprise, Sarah laughed. "Yeah, I know. We've actually had this conversation before."

What? Chuck narrowed his eyes in confusion, trying to remember—oh. _Oh_. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

"Oh God, what did I say?"

"I believe your exact words were 'some cheap rip-off of High School Musical.'" Her voice was deadpan, but he looked up and saw her expression; she had one eyebrow cocked, a smirk barely visible on her lips. He offered a sheepish shrug in return.

"It was the PCP talking, I swear."

"Right." She rolled her eyes and stood up. "Speaking of which, you should eat something. After two days of liquid food—" she gestured toward the IV, which Chuck cringed at—"you're probably starving. You'll need to take the antipsychotics, too."

"Sounds great," Chuck said, swinging his feet over the side of the mattress. "You go ahead and call for takeout or something. Meanwhile, I reeeally need to use the little boy's room." He rushed past Sarah, who leaned over to open her nightstand drawer.

"How about room service?" She flashed the menu as he strode into the bathroom.

"Sure, anything's fine. As long as it's not Escargot or something."

"I really don't think they'd put snails on this menu, Chuck."

"It's still disgusting." He visibly shuddered before closing the door behind him.

An eternity later—seriously, he didn't even _want _to think about if and how they'd relieved his bladder the two days he'd been unconscious—Chuck flushed the toilet and strode over to the sink. He listened as Sarah ordered two Filet Mignons on what he could only hope was the government's dime. Honestly, he would've settled for takeout pizza. Not that he was complaining.

He cringed when he looked into the mirror. The whole drug episode had definitely done a number on him; that or the fact that a two-day stubble had decided to take over the better half of his face. Bloodshot eyes and wild bed hair didn't exactly add up to a pretty picture. He turned off the water and ran his fingers through his curls in a desperate attempt to look decent. No such luck.

With a sigh, Chuck toweled off his hands and opened the door. "Sarah, I—"

The room exploded into a psychedelic myriad of colors. A gigantic disco ball hung from the ceiling, showering every inch of the room with glittery lights. The chairs had transformed into feathery, midget-sized trees and were marching around the room like they'd stepped right out of a Lord of the Rings film. The curtains ripped away from the windows and repositioned around Sarah's bed, flittering through a number of hues before settling on a deep, theater-style red. The table sprouted wings and flew over to Chuck. Like marching ants, words materialized on the tabletop in neon lights:

_Casey's butt looks like elephant skin!_

The table hovered for a good two seconds in front of him before dropping to the ground and rolling away. Then, with an extravagant flourish and a trumpet fanfare, the curtains surrounding the bed fell away to reveal—

Chuck nearly went into seizure at the sight. Sarah, on the other hand, just laughed; she slid to the edge of the bed, a cup of yogurt in hand.

"Hungry, Chuck?" She sang, and background music blasted from the walls in Dolby Digital Surround Sound to accompany her. "It's a new flavor, you know: Sexytime Strawberry."

Chuck made a guttural sound in the back of his throat. After a few failed attempts to get his voicebox working again, he finally croaked out, "W-whipped…"

Sarah's face brightened. "I know, isn't it great?" She gestured to the rest of her body, which was covered from the neck down in whipped cream and various yogurt toppings. "Makes it so much easier to serve the customers. Here, why don't you try some—"

Chuck squeaked and slapped both hands over his eyes. Immediately the music and flashing lights faded; only Sarah's voice remained, repeating his name over and over again as it gradually transitioned from sing-song to normal.

"—Chuck. Hey, are you okay?"

Her hands gently pried his away from his face, but he kept his eyes shut, so tightly that he was beginning to see little black and white checkers behind his eyelids.

"_Chuck._" Her voice was anxious. "Talk to me, Chuck, you're starting to scare me."

"Side effects," he blurted. "By any chance, do they include hallucinations?"

A pause. "Um…probably."

"What does Casey's butt look like?"

"_What?_"

"Just checking. And there's no whipped cream—" Realizing his mistake, Chuck clapped a hand over his mouth and forced his eyes open.

Sarah Walker stood less than two feet away, fully dressed and eyebrows nearly shooting off her forehead. They stared at each other for three of the most awkward seconds of his life before Sarah's eyes slid downward…then right back up. Her cheeks flared bright red.

Chuck closed his eyes and said goodbye to the last of his dignity. He backed into the bathroom again, acutely aware of Sarah's struggle to keep a straight face.

"And that's my cue. If you'll excuse me—"

Her muffled laugh was unmistakable even through the closed door.

* * *

_Ding ding ding…_

"Sorry, we're closed."

Chuck paused halfway through the doorway, an eyebrow raised. "Because this particular task of yours is much more important than serving a hungry customer, I'm sure."

Sarah didn't even bother looking up. "I'll have you know, I'm about to break a record. I'm up to fourteen layers."

"Really? How many at the bottom?"

"No idea. This is the third package, though." She held up a half-empty bag of mini-marshmallows for him to see before grabbing another handful.

Chuck eyed the massive puffball mountain in front of her and whistled. "Wow. The government really knows where to put its dough."

"For your information," Sarah said, shooting him a dry look from the corner of her eye, "these were stale when I found them in the back. I don't think you realize just how boring it is to work here."

He watched as she carefully added another marshmallow to the top layer. "Well, apparently enough to make marshmallow mountains." He flashed a smirk. "Then again, you've done crazier things. Don't think I didn't see all those holes in the wall, missy. The gummi bears were mourning that day."

Sarah rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.

"Anyway," Chuck said, walking towards the counter, "when you're not too busy entertaining yourself with stale marshmallows, maybe you could drop by the apartment tonight around 7:30?" At her questioning look, he shrugged. "Ellie's making lasagna for dinner, and I figured you might want to join us since it's your favorite."

Sarah straightened, her face splitting into a smile. "Sounds like a plan. I'd love to."

"Cool." Chuck glanced down at his watch. "Break's almost over, I gotta head back. Yogurt on the go?"

"Sure. What flavor?"

"Whatever's fine. What's the flavor of the week?"

"Strawberry. The government doesn't get too creative when it comes to…" Sarah trailed off and crinkled her brow. "Chuck, are you okay?"

The color had completely drained from Chuck's face. He stared at her with the oddest look on his face for a long moment before blurting out, "Orange!"

"Orange?"

He pointed at the yogurt machine and jerked his head in a half-nod. "Orange, please."

"O-kay," Sarah said, looking at him for a moment longer before turning to grab a cup. "You sure you're alright?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm totally fine. Strawberries just make me a little—it's just so triangular and seedy—I mean, the seeds are, well—it's red and sour—" Chuck ran a hand down his face. "Y'know, I'm just feeling orange-y today. Come on, who doesn't love orange at the Orange Orange?"

Sarah placed the cup in his outstretched hand, a wary look in her eyes. "Right."

"Alrighty then. I'm gonna head back to the Buy More, and you can stay here and break a new marshmallow mountain record." He mock saluted as he backed towards the door. "See you at 7:30?"

"See you at 7:30."

"Great."

Sarah watched him leave, raising an eyebrow when he actually began power walking across the parking lot. She turned to the yogurt machine with a bewildered look.

"What's wrong with strawberry…?"

* * *

Sarah tinkered with the charm bracelet on her wrist as she stood at the front door of Casa Bartowski. Every single time she came here she went through the same routine: walk up to the door, hesitate for approximately ten seconds, take a deep breath, and knock. It was ridiculous, she knew, but it never changed. There was just something strangely nerve-wracking about entering a place that, for once in her life, actually felt like home. Well, that and the fact that she never truly knew how to act around Ellie. Despite being completely oblivious to the spy world around her, the elder Bartowski sure knew how to guilt trip with something as simple as a heartfelt "hello".

Sarah took her deep breath and raised a fist. The door opened before she could even knock; Ellie and Devon appeared in the threshold, surprised looks on both their faces.

"Sarah, hi!" Ellie's face lit up, and she moved forward to embrace her. "We didn't realize you were at the door, sorry about that. Chuck's in the kitchen."

Kitchen? Sarah pulled back and offered a confused smile. "Thanks. Um…where are you guys going?" She gestured at their noticeably less-than-casual clothes.

Devon grinned. "Thought I'd treat Ellie to some fine dining tonight. We've both been working extra hours the past few weeks, so we figured we could afford to splurge a few dollars."

"You should be proud of my little brother, though," Ellie said, as Sarah stepped aside to let the couple pass. "He actually did a pretty decent job with dinner." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He only asked me for help five times."

Sarah gave her a blank look. Ellie winked and linked her arm with Devon's.

"Thanks, sis," Chuck deadpanned, and Sarah whirled around to see him leaning against the doorframe, hands behind his back. He offered her a sheepish shrug and his trademark goofy grin.

"Well," he said, backing into the living room to let her in, "it was supposed to be a surprise, so, uh…surprise?"

The lights in the room were dimmed. The dining table was set for two, a single candle burning alongside a bowl of lasagna and a platter of garlic bread. Sarah walked towards the table in awe, then stopped and turned to face Chuck again, absolutely speechless.

"Sorry about covering with a cover date," he said. "I thought it'd be nice to treat you to something nice after you had to put up with my little PCP episode." He frowned a bit. "Casey's been getting a kick out of not telling me what happened, but from what I could tell, seems like you got the brunt of it. So I figured we could start off with your favorite home-cooked lasagna, and…well…"

Chuck pulled his hand from behind his back. Sarah's breath caught in her throat. In his hand was the Season One, Volume One DVD of _Glee – Road to Sectionals_.

"Last one on the racks at Buy More," he said, grinning. "I don't know if you already have it, but I thought maybe you'd enjoy watching it on the plasma. I could give it a shot, too, since you really seem to love the show—"

Sarah was in front of him in three strides. Without so much as a second thought, she reached up and pulled his face to hers.

The kiss didn't last long, but like all the others they shared, it packed one hell of a punch. After a few seconds, Sarah pulled away and flashed one of her most brilliant smiles.

"Thank you."

Chuck kept his eyes locked on hers, a ridiculous goofy grin plastered on his face. Then his brow furrowed. He cleared his throat.

"So, uh…was that a real kiss or a cover kiss? Or am I having another one of those hallucinations? Because that would seriously suck."

Sarah laughed and pulled him towards the table.

* * *

_That's all, folks! First reviewer gets a virtual cookie, because you'll be my 100th reviewer. Have I mentioned how awesome you all are? _


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